Third Date of the Unacquainted Kind
by MoarCowbell
Summary: In which the Doctor makes a trip to London and stumbles upon a dear friend. / She was standing in the frozen aisle of the supermarket when he saw her; halfway between the Petit-Pois and Aunt Betty's Yorkshire Puddings.
1. Chapter 1

**Third Date of the Unacquainted Kind**

**Of Shopping Trolleys and Semi-Harmless Stalking**

_**A/N: Hello dears, now I apologise in advance for whatever may occur below that page break. First time writing 11, I seem to have fallen hopelessy in love with him (forgive me 10!) and am now a sucker for 11/Rose. So please do let me know if you can't hear 11, if it's too much like 10 or if it's just a bit rubbish in general. Thanks again go to my septic blister for being my beta, if it is a bit rubbish you could always blame her too.**_

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><p>She was standing in the frozen aisle of the supermarket when he saw her; halfway between the Petit-Pois and Aunt Betty's Yorkshire Puddings. He was quite fond of Yorkshire puddings now, his previous incarnations never having seemed to fully appreciate the delicious juxta-position of the floury little beauties- crunchy on the outside and fluffy on the inside. He was sure there was a metaphor somewhere in there but it currently eluded him, storing itself away in his mind-bogglingly big brain for a time when his senses weren't overcome by floury little beauties, and the blonde girl currently holding a packet of them.<p>

He followed her down the aisle slowly, putting half a dozen packets of fish fingers into his basket that was already filled with Jammie Dodgers, a tin of Ambrosia custard, some double AA batteries and a jar of Bramble Jelly while never taking his eyes off the woman in front of him.

She seemed to be taking her time in the supermarket, picking up items, studying them and putting half of them back, and the Doctor was almost sure she was unaware of her semi-harmless stalker, or if she wasn't she was doing a very good job of pretending to be.

He managed to make it all the way to the bread aisle before the desire to talk to her overcame him, and he grabbed hold of the nearest person he could find.

"How do I look?" He asked the rather startled man, adjusting his jacket collar and attempting to brush his mop of unruly hair out of his eyes.

"Er," began the man, trying to figure out the quickest and least harm-provoking way out of the situation. "Slightly crazy?"

"Good! Good. Crazy is good." The Doctor thrust his arms out in what one could assume was an intergalactic version of a thumbs-up, and spun away from him. "No! No, not good." He turned back and wrapped one of his arms around the man, who now looked like he wished he _had_ gone to Waitrose after all.

"What's your name?" He whispered conspiratorially.

"Uh... Graham."

"Graham! Now Graham," he bent in even closer to the man. "What I need to know is that if you spent two years inside a police box with me before a horrible and completely unnecessary event ripped you away from me and my police box, and years later I approached you in the bread aisle of a Tesco just off Fleet Street, would you..." He paused and bobbed his head in the entirely flirty sort of way his girlfriend did, but Graham hoped it was entirely _not_ the way his girlfriend did it.

"You know..." The Doctor paused again, waiting to see if Graham of the Tesco just off Fleet Street had any more common sense than what it looked like he did. When no noise of recognition was forthcoming, the Doctor accepted he didn't. "Would you think I'm _hot?_"

The previous rationalisations and placations that until now were keeping Graham a little bit less than calm and a little bit more than -he hoped- safe, came crashing down around him as the hot, sickening ball of panic (and probably vomit) came crashing _up_. He struggled desperately to remember what all the documentaries on Animal Planet said to do when faced with inescapable danger. "Er-" He squeaked, and he felt the shameful spread of warmth down his legs. _Don't show fear Graham, oh God they can smell fear. _"Y-yes?"

The Doctor grinned widely, clapping Graham heartily on the back. "Thank you Graham, you've made an old man very happy!"

The frightened-looking man could only muster up a squeak, which the Doctor was sure must be due to just how hot he really was. Or maybe his bowtie. A pungent smell wafted up to his rather prominent nose, and his eyes slowly lowered between their two bodies. "Blimey, Graham. Get that seen to." He stepped away from the offending man, who promptly dropped his basket and sprinted around the corner of the aisle, plimsolls skidding on the linoleum floor.

"What," the Doctor began, stooping to pick up something that was called Durex Fruit Flavours. "Is this? Is it sweets? Might be a banana one..." He turned the packet over in his hands, finally realising just what the fruit flavours were for just as a voice startled him out of his thorough investigation.

"You alright there, mate?" The voice belonged to a girl, _the_ girl whose gaze was now directed on the packet in his hands.

"Ah." The Doctor straightened up to his full -rather impressive- height and tossed the offending packet over his shoulder. "Yes. Yes, hello." He automatically adjusted his bowtie and grinned, resisting the urge to run his gaze up and down her frame. Graham didn't seem to like it. "That wasn't mine," He began, scooping up his own basket and brandishing its contents rather smugly, in what Rose could only liken to the majority of young men with a sports car. "See anything you like?"

The moment the last word left his lips he wanted to smack himself in the head. _All the words in time and space and I come up with **that.** Stupid Doctor. _Speeches number one through six were now thoroughly useless, as were 12, 17, and probably all of the 20-somethings.

Rose simply laughed, the same laugh that he heard so many times before, but not with these ears. "Well, as long as you're alright." She turned and began to walk away from him, and one of the Doctor's hearts -the left one to be precise; it always _was _the more emotional of the two- leapt at the thought of her getting away again.

"Wait! Wait up R- random lady whom I have _never_ met before." She turned back to look at him, her face curious, amused. The Doctor strode right up to her, bending slightly so his eyes were level with hers. "You," he began, his voice soft. "Have got lots of food." He looked purposefully at her heartily-filled trolley.

"_Oh_," she breathed, her features suddenly resembling a look of something that Rose had never directed at him before, something that was normally reserved for children or small creatures from the plant Raal. "Do you need some help?" She started gathering armfuls of bread, rice, and various fruits and vegetables out of her own trolley and placing them into his basket. "You poor thing."

"What? No!" The Doctor shovelled the items back into her trolley. "No, just- no. _I_ meant, that I could- help _you_. I could help you." He motioned between the two of them, and then pointed to her trolley once more. "With your… food."

"You want to help me carry the bags?"

"Yes! Yes, that is _exactly_ what I want to do. Carry your bags!"

"Oh. Right." Rose blinked, trying to figure out if this strange yet somehow endearing man could pose any sort of threat to her. "I hope you're not planning on getting anything in return." She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Huh? Oh! Right! No, no I wouldn't do that. I'm-I'm being... chivalrous. People still do that, don't they?"

"Not round here mate, but maybe if you carry on people might get the message." Rose laughed again, tugging on his sleeve slightly and continuing her way down the aisle. The Doctor hurried to follow.

"So," he began, swinging his basket by his side and trying not feel like a schoolboy on a first date. He supposed it was more accurate to call it a third date, if you could call trolling the aisles of Tesco with a woman who wasn't actually _aware_ this was a third date- a date. "How have you been? Are. How have you- are. How are you?"

"I'm fine thanks." She smiled sideways at him, seeming to be amused by his stammering attempts at conversation. "How have _you _are?"

"Oh, this and that. Good. I've been good."

"Good." She replied, hiding her smile as she and the Doctor joined the cue for the checkouts. The robot that greeted them with a friendly metallic smile surprised the Doctor, as did the rather absurd total of his bill.

"_How_ much for a packet of Jammie Dodgers? That's highway robbery!" He thrust a handful of notes at the robot regardless, and snatched his bag up. "How do you sleep at night?"

Rose was waiting patiently for him by the door, hands full of bags. "Alright?"

"Fine." He grumbled, glancing around the shop once more. "This is a bit new. And the inflation of biscuits! What year is this?" He asked, stomping past her and out of the shop.

"2099." She replied, hoisting her bags up and following him. "You sure you're alright? You seem bit... out of sorts."

"2099? Hm." _Been doing a spot of time-travelling, had she?_ "Great year for a party."

Rose laughed again, "I'll keep that in mind." And she led the way down the road and past St Paul's Cathedral.

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><p><strong>AN: Many thanks for reading, blessed readers. Thoughts? **

**And never fear, if the masses decree it there shall be more. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Third Date of the Unaquainted Kind**

**The Bag, the Bench and the Bowtie**

_**A/N: Dearest reader, thank you very much for liking the story so far. (How presumptuous of me.) A very special thank you to those who have reviewed, you are very kind, and also to those who have favourited/alerted without reviewing.**_

_**Do share your thoughts at the end of the chapter; your hopes and dreams for this story of not for your life and anything you feel needs to be improved upon.**_

_**Happy reading.**_

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><p>It wasn't until they had passed Whitechapel Station did the Doctor realise that while he had been quite cheerfully swinging his bag back and forth, Rose's arms seemed ready to snap under the weight of her load. "Bags! Right, forgot the bags! Sorry." He mumbled, and relieved Rose of the majority of her burden. "Never done this sort of thing before, must remember to carry the bags!"<p>

They had barely gone another half mile before the Doctor had had enough. "Blimey, where the hell do you live?"

"Not far, just past Victoria Park." Rose replied cheerfully, giving him a gentle push along.

"And you chose to go to Tesco all the way near Fleet Street? Are you _mad?_"

"I was in the area," she laughed.

The Doctor resisted the urge to roll his eyes and voice his probably obvious displeasure.

"Do you have somewhere to be?"

"Nope, all the time in the world, me!"

"Likewise." Rose smiled, and steered him towards a bench in a small playground. "Take a breather; you look about ready to keel over."

The Doctor gasped and dropped unceremoniously onto the bench, letting his head fall back. "Ah, that's better." He felt the wood creak beneath him as Rose sat down and he peered at her through half-closed eyes, taking the opportunity to look unabashedly at her for the first time.

She looked near enough exactly the same since the last time he had seen her -or rather she had seen him- her hair was slightly longer but still the same shade of blonde. She was dressed differently, looking slightly more grown up than the baggy jeans and T-shirt he remembered. It looked as if no more than a few years at the very most had passed, and yet there was something very different about her- in the way she walked and held herself, even in the way she brushed hair out of her face. Something the Doctor knew he should know, a little nagging thought that was sticking a red flag up somewhere in the recesses of his mind.

"What?" He realised she had been talking to him, hopefully not long enough for her to start thinking he really _was_ as odd as he appeared.

"I asked what your name is."

"Oh, right. Sorry. Away with the fairies." The Doctor murmured, glancing around just in case there were any of the nasty little creatures about.

"So?"

"What?" He asked again, turning back to face her.

"Your name?"

"Right! My name! Yes, my name. My name... which is- John. John Smith." _Excellent, nothing unoriginal about that whatsoever. Not like she's never heard that one before. Stupid, stupid Doctor. _

Rose snorted. "Right, so let's pretend that's a real name. My name's Rose."

"Nice to meet you, Rose." The Doctor smiled and stretched his arm out, shaking her hand firmly. He grasped her hand for a moment too long, relishing the feel of it in his again. She must have noticed, for she gave him a queer look and tugged her hand gently. He fumbled, his brain trying to make up something that would explain away his behaviour. "You've got... lovely hands."

He failed miserably.

"Right." Rose drawled. "Anyone ever tell you you're a bit odd?"

"Oh," the Doctor waved his hand. "All the time."

They lapsed into silence again, Rose closing her eyes against the sun and basking in its warmth. The Doctor gazed at her, his brain a jumble of all the questions he had been longing to ask her, none of them seeming right to ask and all of them too important not to.

_Are you working?_

_Married?_

_Kids?_

_Happy?_

"So..." He began, adjusting his bowtie nervously. "What do you think of hats?"

_Smooth._

"Hats? I s'pose they're all right. I look a bit silly in them, though."

"Oh, you look great in hats. Maybe. Probably. I think you probably- look great. In. _Hats._"

_Nice save._

"Rose?"

"Hm?"

"Have you got a boyfriend?"

Laughter greeted him, and Rose lifted her head to look at him. "Why? Are you asking?" She teased, and her tongue was against her teeth and _oh God_ it had been so long since he had seen that, and his somersaulting heart -that pesky left one again- did nothing to put his school-boy like anticipation at ease.

"Well," He began, casually draping one arm over the back of the bench and removing it just as quick, sitting up straighter and adjusting his jacket. He coughed. "No. No, that's silly. Sorry. Just- making conversation."

Rose studied him for a moment before turning her attention back to the playground, and the small group of children playing on it. "Right. Well nope, no boyfriend."

"Married? Engaged? Cohabitating?"

"Nope."

"Oh?" The Doctor frowned. Unexpected. "I thought that- well, you're quite- a bit, pretty. Yes. Pretty. So." _Just shut UP, Doctor._ "Just thought..."

"Nah, there was this one bloke, a long time ago. He-" She broke off, staring at the playground, seemingly lost in her thoughts.

"What happened?" The Doctor pressed, wary of pushing for too much information yet unable to resist the urge to hear her speak objectively about him.

"We got separated..." Rose murmured, her gaze never wavering. "He was amazing, and it was the best time of my life. You ever hear about the battle at Canary Wharf? 'Bout hundred years ago?"

"Yeah, a bit."

"We were there and..." Rose shook her head, clearing the memories. "Anyway, gone now."

"And no one else?"

"No... Well, I sort of- he had a brother, I guess. He was lovely, we were really good mates. But the other bloke was a hard act to follow."

The Doctor frowned and pushed his hair out of his eyes. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. "What happened to him? The brother?"

"He died." She replied softly, not seeming to be too upset by it but rather pondering it matter-of-factly. "In 2012. We were out on a mission for this- place we both worked at, and he got hit by a disrupter blast."

The Doctor winced. "Sorry..." He mumbled, almost to himself rather than to her.

"'S alright. Was a long time ago." Rose paused, before shaking her head and smiling brightly. "Sorry, I don't even know why I'm telling you this. You must think I'm a right downer. Guess it's just nice to have someone to talk to, you know? Space can be kinda lonely."

The Doctor sighed. "Tell me about it." He said slowly, feeling utterly dejected and not an ounce of the giddy happiness he had felt in the supermarket.

His plan for Rose's life -a safe, happy life- had not worked out at all how he had hoped. He felt need stirring in him to apologise, to right what wrongs he had unknowingly done to her over the years.

_Shuffle. _

_Shuffle._

The Doctor disguised his slow and incessant shuffling across the bench with a variety of movements- stretching, ladybug examining, cloud-formation pointing and even an impromptu performance of what Amy had called the Macarena until he was but a wibbly levers length away from Rose, and he could smell citrus and berries and _God she smells like a fruit bowl._

"Rose." Her name came out hoarsely, unfamiliar with this tongue and these teeth and hopefully she won't be alarmed by a strange man with a bowtie being so close to her, staring at her temple with all the force and intensity of a toothbrush trying to fly.

Unfortunately, she was.

"Oh God!" Rose shot off the bench and stumbled away from him, looking much like the _other_ toothbrushes after their comrade lay in a broken and jumbled heap on the bathroom floor.

Not real toothbrushes of course.

"Sorry! No, sorry- didn't mean to- don't be frightened!" The Doctor rose and held out his hands in what he hoped was a placating sort of manner. "I was- I'm friendly! I'm a- friendly D- _thing_. Friend. I am a _friendly_ friend. Yes, that's what I am." _Oh she's going to think I'm mental. _He smiled affectionately at her and held out his arms. "Shall we be friends?"

"I would _love_ to, really, but I have to go. Something's come up." Rose scooped her bags up and hoisted them into one hand, adjusting the cuff of her jacket with her free one.

"Oh _no_! Not _that_ old line surely? I really didn't mean to-"

"No it's fine! Honest." Rose smiled at him, and he wasn't sure if she was just trying to pacify him or actually _was_ still enjoying his company. Maybe _she_ had gone mental. "I really do have to go though," she twisted around to look at the playground once more. "I've got to get these home then nip into work."

"Right! Well I can help with that. I am _very_ good at carrying bags. Two hands. Strong hands. Hands made for carrying bags!" He was flustered now, running his strong bag-carrying hands through his hair and mentally kicking himself for managing to make _the_ one think he was some madman.

Without a box.

He didn't even _need_ a box this time.

And _oh God she's still talking. _

"'S alright, I've got a shortcut. Nice to meet you Mr. Smith!" She smiled cheerfully and tapped away on the machine strapped to her wrist. "Might see you again!"

"But- but that's a vortex- _Rose!_" But she had gone with a flash of blue light and her bags and the smell of a fruit bowl, and the Doctor slapped his cheek. "Why didn't you do that _before? _This is not how it was supposed to go!"

He cried out in frustration and kicked the bench once, twice; inflicting every ounce of pain and anguish he could muster on to its metal legs and his nowhere near as hard foot. The sturdy bench retained its woody countenance stubbornly, teasing him and his foot and his complete and utter lack of competence with women.

There was a whir, a small burst of green light and one of the metal legs collapsed.

A hundred and fifty years since he had seen her; countless brushes with slow and agonising death- and all sorts of _other_ brushes with death as well, and she had popped off without him even having held her hand for longer than five seconds, or a hug or any of the numerous other things he had wished to have occurred by this point.

The Doctor spent forty-seven minutes sitting on the lopsided bench.

Twelve minutes in a small boy approached and enquired if he was okay.

Twenty-six minutes in a leggy blonde in a skirt sat beside him and asked for his name.

Twenty-nine minutes in a leggy blonde in a skirt left.

Forty-six minutes and thirty-nine seconds in a park ranger approached, and told the Doctor in a friendly manner that he would have to stop staring at the children or he would be forcibly removed, and suggested the duck pond if he would like to sit somewhere he wasn't going to be a public liability.

"_Ponds!_" Shouted the Doctor, leaping from his seat and grasping the ranger by the shoulders. "The Ponds will know what to do! To the TARDIS, everybody! With me!" He cried, and when no whoops of concurrence were forthcoming he turned in a quick circle, taking in the lack of obedient and willing comrades. "Ah. Right. Well, never mind. To the TARDIS, Doctor!"

And the Doctor left the ranger by the park bench speaking into his walkie-talkie, placing bets with his friends back at the warden's hut as to whether or not this was the same Man With A Bowtie from the Tesco just off Fleet Street.

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><p><strong><em>AN: Thank you for reading dearest one. Opinion?_**


	3. Chapter 3

**Third Date of the Unaquainted Kind**

**Of Mild Sedatives and Squash on the Rocks  
><strong>

_**A/N: Happy New Year readers, I trust it was a good one. Thanks again to reviewers- reviewer of the week goes to Thriving Willow for giving me all the warm fuzzies that my bagpuss does after it's been in the microwave.**_

**_Please do continue to share your views on the story- if you have any queries let me know, and if there's anything you would like to see in the coming chapters do the same._**

**_Happy Reading._**

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><p>"Rory."<p>

"_Rory_."

"Amy, do you have to? I'm trying to-"

"Rory! _Stop!_"

Amy's husband groaned in frustration. "Oh don't tell me you're getting a headache."

"Shut up!" She hissed as she pushed him off her, the urgency in her voice quashing his protests at his interrupted ministrations. "I think there's someone downstairs."

The pair held their breath, and soon enough they could hear the soft padding of footsteps and the creak of a door.

"Amy, stay here." Rory slipped out of bed, pushing his wife back down. "Oh, I can't find my dressing gown."

"Rory! What are you doing?"

"What? I don't want the burglar seeing me naked." He rifled about as quietly as he could, pulling on his pyjama bottoms and his slippers.

"_Rory!" _

"Right, yeah sorry. I'll just…" He trailed off, pointing to the door. "You stay here, I'll deal with this."

"What, and leave you to get mugged by the burglar? I don't think so Mister." Amy swung her legs off the bed and threw on her nightie. "Come on."

"At least let me lead the way!"

The pair crept down the stairs, making their way to the kitchen where a sliver of light from the door betrayed the intruder. Rory, ever vigilant, looked quickly around for a weapon he could use- houses were full of ready-made weapons just right for battling fearsome intruders; letter openers, solid silver candlesticks, fire pokers and numerous other blunt and heavy objects.

However the Ponds had obviously never read _Burglar Beware: How to Protect Your Ho__me from Unsavoury Characters and Other Useful Information_, for their home lacked the very basic necessities of Burglar-Proofing.

Rory snatched up a lamp, brandishing the flowery lampshade in front of him.

"What are you gonna do, flash them to death?"

"Shut up, Amy!" He hissed, slowly inching closer to the door. "Stay back." He held a finger to his lips and reached for the door handle. "One… two… _three!" _Rory threw the door open with a bang and leapt through the threshold, letting out a war-cry of Roman proportions and shaking his lamp menacingly at the empty room.

"Amy, there's no one here."

"Hello, Ponds."

Amy and Rory screamed, spinning around in the direction of the voice as Rory waved the lamp in front of him.

The Doctor sat in the middle of the sofa, his feet resting on the coffee table in front of him and munching on a packet of cheese and onion crisps

"Doctor!" Amy cried, as Rory flicked on the lights.

"Hello!" He replied cheerfully, standing up and opening his arms to her.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack, you idiot!" She snatched the lamp from Rory and whacked the Doctor with it.

"Ow! Stop it!"

"What are you even doing here? It's the middle of the bloody night!"

The Doctor turned to peer out the window. "So it is. Am I not allowed to pay a social visit to my friends?"

Amy rolled her eyes and relinquished the lamp from its painful duties. "Course you are, you big idiot!" She rounded the coffee table and wrapped her arms round him. "You could've given us a bit of notice first though."

"Well I thought you'd be up and about! What were you two even doing up there?"

"Doctor…" Rory warned, looking uncomfortable. "It's the middle of the night, it's Valentine's Day, and we're married. What do you _think_ we were doing?"

The Doctor's face remained blank for a moment as he ran through a list of all the possible activities his two friends could've been doing. A look of incredulity and disgust marred his features. "Ugh! _Really._" He pushed Amy away from him, as if the mere idea of the two of them engaging in such an act was beyond his comprehension. "And today- of all days! Really, why people want to have a bit of rumbly tumbly on the anniversary of a bloody massacre is beyond me. Surely it's counter-productive?"

"Rumbly _what_?" Rory asked.

"Doctor, what _are_ you doing here?"

"Right! Yes, stop getting side-tracked." He placed his hands on Amy's shoulders and stared intently into her eyes. "Amy, I need your help."

"What's wrong? Are you alright? Do you need us to come with you? Rory!" Amy hollered. "Get the suitcases!" She shoved her husband towards the stairs and began to gather various things from the living room into her arms.

"No, no, no!" The Doctor waved his arms about. "Just _stop! _I need your advice."

"Advice?" Rory asked. "About what in the whole universe could _we_ possibly give _you_ advice?"

"Well I didn't mean _you, _Rory."

"Thanks."

"Well, Doctor? What's wrong?" Amy queried.

The Doctor took a deep breath and wrung his hands together, suddenly seeming less like a 1000 year old Lord of time and space and more like a child who had done something wrong and was now facing the consequences from an irate mother, and he said four words neither Amy nor Rory would ever have expected to follow that question.

"It's about a girl."

"Oh _God…_" Rory groaned, running his hands through his hair. "Is it about River? 'Cause I swear Doctor I am _not_ ready to have that conversation with you."

"No!" He cried fidgeting about and twisting one of the buttons on his jacket. "No, it's a- different girl. An old girl. No, not old- just, an old friend. Who is a girl."

"Is she an old girlfriend?" Amy asked, trying not to look as desperately interested as she felt.

"_Amy." _The Doctor began exasperatedly. "I am a Time Lord. We don't have _girlfriends." _

"But she's a girl, right? And a friend?"

"Well yes, but she's not a- a girlfriend. She's a girl… friend. Or a gal- a gal pal."

"Right, yes. Forget I said that."

"I need a drink…" Rory muttered as he ran his hands over his face. "You two want anything?"

"Yeah, think I could do with a beer too." Amy took the Doctor's hand and sat down on the sofa with him. "Think it's going to be a long night."

"Doctor?"

The Doctor glanced up at Rory and grinned. "Ah, yes thanks. I'll have a squash."

"Right." Rory rolled his eyes and departed hastily to the kitchen as he worked out how long he could spend in there before Amy would begin to get suspicious.

He made the drinks, washed the dishes, cleaned the oven and refolded the tea-towels before deciding he had better join the conversation taking place in the living room before Amy encouraged the Doctor to do something ridiculous.

"…and then, when she's unconscious you can put her in the TARDIS and it'll be a big surprise!"

The Doctor furrowed his brow in confusion. "I think I've made a mistake in coming here."

"No, Doctor! Just _try_ it! And if doesn't work you can always erase her memory like you did with Rory that one time."

"What?" Rory asked, stopping short in the doorway. Amy smiled at him sweetly, taking the drinks from him and pecking him on the cheek.

"Nothing, honey!"

"You don't call me pet names unless you've done something wrong. What did you two _do?_"

"_Nothing_. Now quit your worrying and help me help the Doctor. He's got lady troubles."

"I don't have _lady_ troubles. Amy, can you not make it sound so…trivial?" The Doctor finished lamely, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "I don't even know how she got out of the parallel world, and she's not with the other me, and I'm pretty sure she still works for Torchwood." He ran his hand through his hair absently. "That, or she's now some vigilante type."

"Sorry, hold on- I'm a bit lost. Parallel world? Torchwood? Other you?" Rory looked thoroughly confused. "Oh God, is there another ganger?"

"It's alright Rory," soothed Amy. "I'll explain later. Thing is Doctor, it doesn't really matter what we say. What do you _want_ to do?"

"It's not about what I want Amy, it's about what's right. For everyone." The Time Lord fell silent, swilling his Berries & Cherries squash around the tumbler.

Two and a half hours, a packet of biscuits and four beers and two squashes later there were three things the trio were in accord of.

Under no circumstances would the Doctor pay someone to administer a mild sedative to Rose

Under no circumstances would Amy be allowed to interfere in Rose-related matters, and

Under no circumstances would the Doctor again let himself into the house without calling first

At half past four in the morning, when the Doctor was sure he had gleaned all the valuable advice available he bid the Ponds farewell and retreated to the TARDIS, spending a good few hours under the console and planning his next move.

At quarter to five in the morning, when Amy was sure the Doctor had definitely left and was in no danger of returning she kissed Rory and hurried upstairs to the study, spending a good few hours on the computer and planning her next move.

"Amy!" Rory scolded. "You told the Doctor you wouldn't intervene. I don't think this is a good idea."

"And the Doctor said he wouldn't barge into our house in the middle of the night again." She looked at him pointedly. "I'm just… levelling the playing field."

Her husband sighed dejectedly. "I'll fetch the printer."

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><p><strong>AN: If you have a certain word, or phrase, or little idea you would like included in the story let me know and I shall do what I can to accomodate it. Nothing worse than reading a story and thinking 'I wish they had put THAT in there!' so do share.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Third Date of the Unacquainted Kind**

**In Which Graham Returns to Therapy Sessions  
><strong>

**_A/N: Dearest one, I cannot apologise profusely enough for me hideous delay in updating. I can only excuse myself between full time work, full time study, helping the less fortunate in underprivileged countries and anything else that works for you. Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed this far, they are all very lovely and kind, and undeserving of my lateness!_  
><strong>

**_Hope you enjoy this little plot-less chapter until I can get my head screwed on right and start functioning again.  
><em>**

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><p>It took three weeks, four days and six hours for the Doctor to find Rose again, and when he did it was in a most unusual place. A place that he had never before associated with Rose -nor himself- and after sampling what it had to offer quite probably never would again.<p>

It was as he was completing his sun-salutation that she approached him, mat rolled under one arm and water bottle clutched in her hand. "Hello stranger." She grinned cheerfully. "Didn't think I'd see you here."

"Well, I like to yoge as much as the next person." The Doctor replied, trying to conceal the burning in his leg muscles. "Although that upside-inside-out dog is a doozy, oh yes." He straightened up and fell silent, smiling at her. "Hello, Rose."

"Hello Mr Smith. It's a been a while."

"Has it? How long has it been, _exactly_? I lose track of time. Need a watch." He shook his wrist about, and as his gaze fell on the small leather strap he quickly unbuckled it and tossed it behind him. "Need a new watch."

"About a couple of months, or so. I was wondering if you'd ever pop up again."

"Ah well, I have a rather nifty way of popping up- just you watch." His face fell. "That... wasn't supposed to sound- _weird. _Sorry." The Doctor picked up his own mat and walked out of the session with her, waving it about. "I just need to take this back to the TA- car. Backto my _car. _That I own. With a steering wheel... and a- a boot."

"What sort of car have you got?"

"Oh, it's a- a- Ford." He shrugged, wrinkling his nose. "It's blue. One of those hatchback- thingys. Looks pretty small, but it's bigger on the inside." _Good one, Doctor! _"Lots of room for... people. Friends. I've got some friends, and we... drive round in it. To- Devon."

"Oh right. Well I'll walk with if, you like."

"No! No, sorry. It's just- a bit messy, at the moment. From my friends. They've left... clothes in it."

Rose raised an eyebrow. "I'm guessing you mean from suitcases? From Devon?"

"Yes! That's exactly what I mean. Hah! Friends, eh? But you stay, right there!" The Doctor thrust his hand out towards her, backing away slowly. "Stay. S-t-a-y..."

The Doctor remained in that position until he had backed over a rubbish bin and around a corner, and couldn't see her anymore. He took off at full speed towards the TARDIS, threw his mat and tea Thermos inside and sprinted back towards Gibson and Son's One-Stop Auto Shop and Yoga Centre.

Upon reaching the corner the Doctor slowed to what he hoped was a casual and self-assuming walk, trying to catch his breath. "Sorry about that," he gasped as he approached Rose. "Parked the car too far away."

"You should get one of them satnavs." She replied, smiling and offering him her water bottle.

"Satnav?" The Doctor replied indignantly. "I don't need a _satnav_! I'll have you know I have an impeccable sense of direction."

"That's what they all say." Rose laughed.

She was smiling at him; almost expectantly, as if she was just _waiting_ for him to offer her some sort of invitation. Maybe she really _did_ like him. Over a thousand years old and he still had it- even without his spaceship.

The Doctor blew the air out of his cheeks, his brain whirring frantically for anything that would keep her here just a little bit longer; anything that would stop her walking (or _teleporting_) away from him again.

"Well, do you fancy some.." The Doctor twisted around and haphazardly gestured to the shop down the street. "Would you like to get some chips? You look like a girl who loves her chips." He nodded encouragingly.

"What do you mean by that?" She challenged, narrowing her brow. And _there_ it was- that familiar Tyler spark that was so often the precursor to a resounding slap across his cheek.

"No! Nope- didn't mean that! No, just… You're not- not implying you're…" The Doctor made a roundish-looking shape with his hands. "I just... can spot a chip lover a mile away, me." He mumbled, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets.

Rose hesitated for a moment too long, and the Doctor was positive he had blown it completely. She continued to eye him warily, scrutinising him. But finally her face broke into a bright smile and she stepped towards him and linked her arm through his. "Come on then," she finally chirped, sticking her arm out towards him. "You're buying."

"I haven't got any money." He replied meekly as he attempted to entwine his arm with hers. He first linked it all the way through, then the other way, then held her elbow, then finally retracted it completely and made a 360° turn behind her back to take her other arm, patting her hand awkwardly. "G-got it... ready. I'm, I am ready. Ready-for-_chips_."

"Allons-y, then."

And the Doctor felt Lefty constrict again, his breath hitching and trying desperately not to swoon over the lasting impact he seemed to have had on her. It was like one of those Romp-coms Rory watched but pretended he didn't.

"So what do you do then, Mr Smith?" Rose asked after they had sat at a small table outside, overlooking the canal.

"Oh, I'm a travelling... sales consultant. For- Tupperware."

Rose scoffed. "Right, so you've told me your name's John Smith and you sell Tupperware. Are you a spy or something? You're very mysterious."

The Doctor leaned in closer to her. "I like it that way." He smirked.

Rose was smiling at him again -_God, she does that a lot-_ and had mirrored his pose, and perhaps finally they were going to get on to more serious topics such as _Did She Think He Was Hot?_ and _Would She Like To Come Inside His Police Box Again? _and _Who Is That Person Suddenly Blocking The Sunlight That Glinted Off Rose's Hair So Brilliantly?_

"Oh God, _Amy!_" The Doctor shouted, jumping back from Rose and throwing his chip fork into the container exasperatedly. "What are you _doing _here?"

"Hello!" She replied cheerfully, waving enthusiastically.

Rory peered out rather unwillingly from behind his wife."Hi." He mumbled.

"Well you would just follow the ginge, wouldn't you?" The Doctor snapped. He stood up and took Amy's arm firmly. "Can we have a word?"

"No, not until you've introduced us to your friend!" She replied, sitting down beside Rose. "I'm Amy. And that's Rory." She flung an arm in Rory's approximate direction behind her. "Don't mind him. Now tell me Rose, have you ever been charged and convicted of a crime in a court of law?"

"Er, no?" Rose replied as she glanced between the Doctor and Amy, the former who was smiling in an approving manner.

"Good, good. How many trips to your local emergency centre would you say you've had in the last year?"

"_Amy!"_ The Doctor shouted, taking her arm and yanking her away from the table.

"Is she always like that?" Rose asked Rory, watching as the Doctor and Amy engaged in a heated debate, the former gesticulating wildly.

"Um... yeah. Yeah she is." Rory replied. "Sorry."

"'S alright. She's a bit odd, mind."

Rory sighed wearily, rubbing his hands over his face. "Yeah. She is."

"Have you known Mr Smith long then?" She asked.

"Er- Smith?" Rory frowned. "Oh, right. Yeah, Smith. Um, a few years I guess. On and off. What about you?"

"I've only met him a few times." Rose replied quietly as she continued to study the Doctor and Amy. "Don't quite know what to make of him yet."

Rory scoffed. "I've known him for years and I still don't know what to make of him." He replied as he tried to ignore the not-so-subtle argument that was occurring over by the rubbish bin.

"Right, well. I've gotta get going." Rose stood and gathered up the chip containers.

"Oh, no- I don't think you should do that," Rory began frantically, all too aware that should Rose leave before the Doctor wanted her to it would be _him_ that would bear brunt of the blame. "Maybe wait 'til they're finished?"

"That could be years, the way those two are going at it. Besides, I've got some work that needs doing. I'll see you round, yeah?" She smiled at him.

"Um, yes? I mean no, wait..." Rory trailed off feebly, watching her as she made her way to where the Doctor and Amy were standing.

"Excuse me," Rose began, tapping the Doctor on his shoulder. "I just need to pop these in the bin."

"Right, yes, sorry." He replied distractedly, twisting round to take the boxes from her and shove them forcefully in the rubbish bin, before turning back to Amy.

"Right then, I'd best be off." Rose said as she waited for a moment with her hands shoved in her pockets, before seeming to decide it was pointless waiting any longer for a response and made her way down the street, yoga mat tucked under her arm.

"_See_ Amy? This is what happens when you intervene on things that don't concern you! Innocent people don't have a clear path to the rubbish bin for their chip boxes and their Fanta cans and their-" The Doctor froze and whipped round to look behind him, and then at Rory sitting alone at the table, waving meekly.

"_Rory!_" The Doctor shouted, storming over to him and planting his hands on the table. "Of course, the one person left alone with Rose before she leaves has to be _Rory_! What did you say to her?"

"Nothing!" He replied indignantly. "Well, I said Amy was a bit odd, but that's all."

"What?" Amy demanded, rounding the Doctor to glare at her husband. "I'm not _odd!_"

"Right, you two! Stop it! Go home and play with your whatsits, why don't you?" The Doctor said exasperatedly, running his hands through his hair. "I need to find- _Graham!_" He interjected happily.

"Who's Graham?" Rory asked, but the Doctor had already strolled up to a man at the back of the queue and clapped him heartily on the back.

"Graham, my main man! Fancy seeing you here! My, you're sweaty." The Doctor grumbled, wiping his hand on Graham's trouser leg.

"You- you're not real. Not real. There is no police box." He repeated, clasping his hands together tightly.

"Course there's a police box! Look at those two, they've been with me in there." The Doctor replied as he pointed to Amy and Rory. "Mind you, they're a married couple so that was a bit different! Won't be making that mistake again, you know what I mean Graham?" He nudged him consiprationally.

"Not real. Not real. Not real." Graham repeated, twisting his sweaty hands and rocking back on his heels. _Ignore him and he'll go away. He's not real, Graham. He can't hurt you, oh God please don't let him hurt me!_

"Might learn my lesson and take you with me next time, eh Graham?" The Doctor continued cheerfully, clapping him on the back again. "Must be off though, old friend. Need to go chase down a girl who used to be in my box. Keeps running off, that one! Cheerio, Graham!"

And the Doctor left Graham in search of the toilets with a change of pants in one hand, and left Amy and Rory in search of whatever whatsits they had in their home, and returned to the TARDIS to continue his search for Rose.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little interlude whilst I get back into the swing of things. I shall endeavour to make sure the next update is not in 3 months!<br>**


	5. Chapter 5

**Third Date of the Unacquainted Kind**

**In Which Happiness Isn't Happiness Without a Violin-Playing Goat**

_**A/N: There is nothing I can say. I am abhorrent, I am ghastly, I don't deserve any of you. I could rattle off a bunch of excuses, but I haven't really got anything solid except that if this is how fast time is going at the moment I shudder to think what it's going to be like in fifty years. **_

_**Has the Doctor something to do with this? Is he playing tricks on me? I hope so!**_

_**Anyway, you'll be pleased to know I have the next chapter nearly finished already. Even so, I will accept all shouts of outrage and abuse at the hiatus of this story.**_

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><p>"Not too bad Doctor, if I do say so myself." The Doctor adjusted his bow tie one last time in the mirror, looking rather pleased with himself. "Not too bad indeed." He patted the TARDIS console affectionately. "Wish me luck old friend, I'm going to step out of those doors and into <em>progress<em>."

The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS and into a puddle.

"Eurgh." He shook the dirty water off his leg and glared at the TARDIS. "Thanks dear." He grumbled, before stepping over the puddle with his dry foot and gazing up at the building in front of him.

The aforementioned house was a small, boxy old thing- half of it painted a cream colour to cover up the rusty-brown underneath, and the windows and door were painted blue- _TARDIS_ blue, the Doctor noted affectionately. There were various potted plants dotted around the small garden in the front, and a wheelbarrow full of gravel in the corner, sitting beside a wooden shed that was in need of a fourth wall.

"Right then." The Doctor wrung his hands together, fidgeting before the gate of the little house. "Come on, Doctor. You've fought Daleks. You've been killed by an astronaut. You've played five-finger fillet with Helen Keller. You can do this." He took a deep breath, strode purposefully through the gate and up the path and knocked on the door before he could change his mind.

_She's probably not even in, stupid Doctor. Go and calibrate the gyroscopic stabiliser._ The Doctor hopped down two steps, then twisted back around and around once more as his astoundingly large brain tried to make up its mind. He had one foot on the path and the other on the last step when the door opened, and he sheepishly turned around to face Rose.

"You're early." Rose beamed at him, hairbrush in one hand.

The Doctor blinked. "Am I? That's a bit unusual. Normally it's the other way around. Early for what, exactly?"

"For our date?" Rose replied, raising her eyebrows.

"Our date? Our- you and me- on a, a..." The Doctor stammered, motioning between the two of them. "We've got a... yes, right. A date! That's what we've got. I'm here for our _date_." He reached out to a table beside the door and took hold of a small bunch of chrysanthemums, never taking his eyes off of Rose. He swept them up and thrust them at her, broken roots dangling from his hand.

"These are for you. Sorry about the dirt."

"Oh." Rose furrowed her brow but smiled at him anyway, taking the plant from him. "Thanks, I'll er- put them in some water. Come on in." Rose wound her way through the living room and disappeared from sight.

"A _date?!_ I'm not even dressed for a date!" The Doctor muttered under his breath as he strode into the room. Pausing, he patted down his pockets and after digging past a pile of rope, a lollipop, a scale model of the TARDIS (on a keychain), and a small whistle for both the black-spotted and the silver-spotted Craags from the planet Wall, he found and brandished a smart black bow tie.

"Much better!" He exclaimed as he gave his new tie a tug.

"All done." Rose stepped back into the room carrying a vase of the bedraggled chrysanthemums, clods of dirt floating in the water. "They're lovely." She placed the vase on a table beside what appeared to be a half-finished jumper for a person with three arms and no neck, and moved to stand in front of the Doctor. "Thanks." She smiled at him and reached up to hug him.

"Ooh, we're hugging now." The Doctor replied, a bit startled as he patted her on the back. _Oh. We're hugging now. _He wrapped both arms around Rose's waist and closed his eyes, resting his cheek against hers and let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

She felt just as he remembered, had dreamed of over the last two hundred years and he savoured the moment, trying to hold it for as long as possible before time snatched it from him.

Perhaps she would think it normal for him to hold her for so long. _How long do we usually hug for? How many hugs have we had, in this body?_

The Doctor continued to hold her far past what one would usually consider normal and into the realm of the type of hug one might get from a semi-harmless stalker. Rose pushed at his shoulder lightly. "Mr Smith? Not that I'm not enjoying this, but for us to go on this date I've actually got to finish getting ready?"

"Oh, right- yes!" The Doctor released her quickly, looking flustered. "Off you pop." He bobbed his head in the direction of the stairs.

Rose smiled at him again, _she should NEVER stop doing that_, and headed upstairs. "Make yourself comfy!" She called over her shoulder.

Whilst she was gone, the Doctor took the time to have a look around. The living room he was in was a bit of a mish-mash of styles- there were trinkets and figurines and rugs and cushions and a Buddhist fertility statuette- _hold on! _The Doctor zeroed back in on the last one. "I don't think so." He muttered, glancing around before pointing his sonic screwdriver at it. There was a burst of green light and the small, cherubic little figures clambering over the large Buddha promptly fell off.

"There'll be none of that." He grumbled, moving further into the house.

There was a room adorned with photographs, and the Doctor was pleased to see he was not forgotten. There were pictures of his two most recent incarnations, both posed photographs with a smiling Rose by his side and ones he hadn't been aware she had taken- of him in the console room or library with a tool or book never far away. There were also pictures of what he presumed to be his meta-crisis, who appeared to not have gained any new sense of fashion or hairstyle.

He moved slowly around the room, smiling fondly at an older Jackie with a chubby blonde boy on her hip, a balding Pete and a grinning Mickey. There were pictures of people he didn't recognise- people in military uniform, a group of children standing beside a well in a dusty village, women with colourful drinks in their hands and rows upon rows of what appeared to be of Rose's travels to far-off lands (or as far-off as one can get on Earth).

"Shall we go then?" Came a voice behind him, and the Doctor turned to see Rose standing in the doorway.

The brain of a Time Lord is a wholly remarkable thing, capable of approximately 40 quadrillion processes per second, recalling the first 3528 digits of Pi and calculating the time it would take to finish a whole chocolate cake when faced with an oncoming army of Pudgalorpae in 0.4 seconds, (4.9 seconds to actually eat the cake).

But unfortunately, when faced with a woman who has legs and a dress and a head with hair (or no hair, if one is that way inclined) the Time Lord's brain is no more able to function than that of average male human, and ceases to be able to produce a sentence more intelligible than a lizard performing Hamlet's soliloquy.

"S'... s' b-blue." The Doctor managed, staring at Rose. His mouth felt suddenly dry, his hands felt suddenly clammy, and his neck suddenly felt hot. He tugged at the collar of his shirt.

Rose looked down at her dress. "Is it alright?"

The Doctor bobbed his head up and down, looking remarkably like the English bulldog toy in the back of Amy and Rory's car. "Mhmm, yes- no, it's lovely- it's a lovely.. in fact it's-" He broke off, taking on a thinly-veiled mask of indifference as he leant against the sideboard, knocking over a photograph as he did so which in turn caused a domino effect to ripple across the picture frames along the length of the sideboard.

The Doctor scrunched his face up and winced. "Sorry..." He muttered.

"Well shall we go then? Before you destroy the rest of the house?" Rose smiled at him, and took his arm. "Where are we going?"

"Hmm?" The Doctor replied. "Where? Where, where, where, where. _To_ the place, that I..." He trailed off, face screwing up as he thought of the right word. "_Booked_, of course? Is that right? You _book_ somewhere? Which I did, of course."

It was two hours and thirty-six minutes later when the Doctor and Rose were walking along the Serpentine in Hyde Park.

The Doctor was trying to figure out if it would be inappropriate to give in to the constant, habitual want to hold her hand.

Rose was trying to figure out why the staff at the restaurant her companion had taken her to consistently referred to him as 'Your Holiness' and proclaimed that their entire meal would be free of charge, in gratuitous thanks of his great philanthropy across the world.

The Doctor had told her of his travels (his most time-appropriate, Earth-based ones) and Rose had told him snippets of her life; she told him she worked for the Ministry of Defence but gave no more detail than that (it was boring, she said), told him her family had passed away (a long time ago, she said) and that the last date she had been on involved a book reading of something about all the things one could find in their house to deter a burglar (it was informative, she said).

The Doctor was relieved of his internal debate by Rose slipping her hand into his, her fingers winding through his own. The Doctor looked down at their joined hands and smiled softly, and for just a moment -a snippet, perhaps, of the great stretch of time that was his life- he was completely, utterly, blatantly happy.

By the time they had walked back to Rose's house, the night had grown cold and so had the Doctor's feet. "Need to bring better shoes next time..." He mumbled to himself.

"Well, goodnight." Rose turned to face him when they reached her door, waiting patiently.

"Er.. oh, yes!" The Doctor replied, taking a step forward and giving her an air kiss on each side of her face. "Goodnight."

Rose furrowed her brow at him in bemusement, which only deepened as she peered around his shoulder in the direction of where the TARDIS was _supposed _to be hiding. "Do you see something under-"

"No!" Rose was cut off as the Doctor spun her around, clasped her hands tightly in front of his chest and stared forcefully into her eyes. "I don't see anything. Anything but... you. Because you are... so... _lovely_, and, and..." The Doctor racked his brains as he maneuvered Rose closer to her door. "And don't forget," he began earnestly, "that I am just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to- hold on, have I got that right?"

Rose stared at him with wide eyes. "Blimey, you really are quite forward aren't you?"

"Yes! I just can't control myself. So quick, into your house before I do anything untoward!" He ushered her through the door. "Chop, chop, come on, it's hormone city here!"

"Alright, alright. Don't get your knickers in a twist!" Rose replied.

"_I beg your pardon_?! I don't wear _knickers!_" The Doctor looked aghast.

Rose smiled cheekily at him, and his protests of indignation died on his lips as she stood on her tiptoes to press her own to his cheek. "G'night, Mr Smith."

The Doctor stared after her, mouth slightly agape as she disappeared into the house, softly shutting the blue door behind her.

As he descended the stairs and reached the gate at the end of the path, the Doctor turned back to watch the trail of lights flick on and off again as Rose moved throughout the house, a smile on his lips and a hand on his cheek.

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><p><em><strong>AN: More to follow soon, dearest ones.**_


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